He’s right. Of course he is. My mom deserves to be happy, and in some twisted universe, she and Dr. McCormick do make a very cute couple, but I don’t want to think about that at the moment.
“I just saw them French kissing, Lucas—give me a second to wrap my head around it.”
“Do you think you’ll have to start calling him Dad at work?”
“Oh my god. STOP!”
He starts the truck.
“So I guess we aren’t getting your stuff tonight?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re still moving in though, right?”
“Of course! I don’t think I can ever sit on that couch again!”
He puts the truck in drive. “Good, then let’s go home. I think I have an old shirt you can wear.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lucas and I spend the rest of the weekend locked in his room, barely coming up for air or food. By Monday morning, there’s a distinct musk clinging to his bedding and a half dozen empty boxes of Toaster Strudels and Eggo Waffles strewn around the kitchen floor. We are animals.
“You clean up the boxes,” Lucas says. “I’ll throw the sheets in the wash.”
“Okay, and don’t forget, we need to get Dr. McCormick a coffee on the way to the office!” I shout from the shower. “In case word got out about my stint in the criminal justice system.”
“What if he fires you?”
“Well I already declared war on MediQuik, so I’ll probably just stay here in bed, scheming and waiting for you to come home every day.”
“You’d get bored.”
I turn off the shower and hop out.
“He won’t fire me.”
Lucas is at the sink, spitting out toothpaste, and when he sees me stepping out of the shower, dripping wet, I swear he starts to salivate. He turns and assesses me just before I wrap the towel around my midsection.
“Don’t even think about it.” I level him with a hard glare. “We’ll be late.”
“What’s the point of living together if we don’t have sex before work?”
He asks this like it’s a legitimate question.
“We already had sex this morning, Lucas. And about three hundred times in the last two days.”
“We have to make up for lost time.” He smirks and my stomach clenches. I know it wouldn’t be hard to convince myself that round two is a good idea, so I flee from the bathroom and lock myself in his bedroom so I can start to pull myself together.
He knocks on the door. “Hey, you have to let me in. I need to get dressed too.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“We’re mature adults, Daisy. I’m not going to throw you onto the bed and ravish you.”
I spare a quick glance at the bare mattress. It’s too tempting, so I don’t unlock the door until I’m dressed.
“I could still hike up that skirt,” Lucas warns as I pass.
I bat his hand away and head to the kitchen to rifle through his cabinets. I wasn’t kidding about eating all of his food. We’ll have to do a grocery store run after work. Because that’s what we do now. We go to the grocery store together like a…couple. Our mothers wouldn’t believe it if they saw it.
On the way to work, I psych myself up, trying to think up explanations for the questions Dr. McCormick will have. Whether I agree with it or not, doctors are held to higher standards, and it makes sense. No one wants to be treated by a physician who is mentally unstable—but I’m not. I will plead temporary insanity due to the stress of nearly losing Lucas for good. Dr. McCormick will understand. Also, the fresh coffee from Hamilton Brew should help dull his anger.
I have it all planned.
Dr. McCormick is in his office, waiting for me when we arrive.
“Good morning, Dr. McCormick.”
He looks up from his desk, which is even messier than usual. I swear there are more files piled there than up front in reception. He swears he is able to keep it organized in his mind, but I have my doubts.
“Come in, come in. I have something I want to talk to you two about.”
The talk. Of course. I knew it was coming. It’s why I put an extra packet of sugar in his hazelnut coffee.
“Right. Here—I brought you this.”
He takes a quick sip and then motions for us to have a seat. He follows and for a few seconds we’re blocked from one another by the mountain of files on his desk.
He shuffles a few things around, and at last, we can see him, looking a little weary, probably disappointed.
“Before you start, you should know I never meant to misrepresent the practice Saturday night,” I begin. “I had no choice. My actions, while seemingly childish, were of utmost importance.”
He eyes me, confused, then laughs in recognition. “Oh, you’re talking about the middle school dance thing?”
I gulp. He’s about to give me my walking papers. Report me to the medical board. What will Lucas think? How long will we last if I’m not working, or if I have to move?
“Yes. Like I said, it was a tiny lapse in judgement—”
He interrupts me. “That’s not why I called you in here, though frankly, I’m surprised that’s all it took for you to win Lucas over. I figured it would take some sort of miracle after what you’ve put each other through over the years.”